These Old Halls
by ArabellaWarbler
Summary: A post-Furt spin-off about a group of rowdy teenage boys and a bird or two, contained within the madness that is Dalton Academy.  Occasional strong language, adult humour/references, slight smuttiness, occasionally quite fluffy.
1. Washington

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_S1 EP1  
><em>**_Washington_**

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><p><em>The story so far on—These Old Halls.<em>

_Kurt transferred out of McKinley because he was getting bullied by Karofsky who's hiding a big secret. Now he's settling in at Dalton with Blaine and the Warblers. Of course, he misses the New Directions, but Blaine's going to help him through it. Right? And that's the story so far, on These Old Halls._

* * *

><p>Kurt Hummel was about to start his first day at Dalton Academy. It was the most nerve wrecking day of his life so far.<p>

He was finally going to escape the horrors that had been haunting him for the past year. _Horrors_. Dalton's zero-tolerance no-bullying policy would keep him safe, at least from any bullies.

On the bad side, he had to leave all of his friends—the New Directions—Mercedes and Tina and Puck and Artie and Finn and Sam and Quinn and Brittany and Santana and Mike and Rachel. He was even going to miss Rachel. His dad and his stepmother had given up their _honeymoon_ to pay for Kurt's tuition. He was going to school a good hour and a half drive away from his friends and family, which meant that, to save the morning and evening commute, he would be boarding at Dalton. _With strangers_. The GPA here for most of the students was a solid 4.0. Kurt was smart, but he was_ Lima-smart_, and Dalton was famous for winning National Academic Conventions since 1958. The Professors here were actually going to eat him alive.

One thing that he overlooked, was that the rest of his new-found Dalton clan were going to be right there behind him, waiting to catch him if—or most likely when—he fell, even if they were the ones to push him in the first place.

* * *

><p>The Washington building stood tall in front of Kurt. He could feel his heart in his mouth as he watched countless students just like him running around in their Dalton uniform. Except they weren't just like him, because this was his first day.<p>

He took a moment to look around at that majestic place.

There were five main buildings—Jefferson, Washington, Franklin, Hamilton and Madison. The first four were boarding houses for the students. The Madison building was where the professors usually lodged for the duration of each term. A large stone path connected all five with a large fountain in the centre. The main schooling building stood separately from all of them, looming over the smaller buildings and making them seem insignificantly tiny in comparison.

The whole campus was relatively enclosed, and it was impossible for anybody who wasn't a student to get into the school—even Kurt didn't really understand how he had first gained access on his '_spying_' mission.

Of course, Kurt had read all about Dalton in the countless leaflets and maps and lesson schedules that Blaine had showered him with, but actually being there was so much different.

He took a deep breath and started walking towards the Main Building, where he was to report to Professor Malkin, his new headmaster.

* * *

><p>Malkin's office was somewhat grander than the rest of Dalton. From what Kurt had seen of the vast complex, he had great respect for the interior designer.<p>

It had taken him long enough to find it, having walked into the main reception on the ground floor and being given directions, he'd followed them _exactly_ and ended up on the floor below the office.

Determined not to break down before his day had even begun, he asked directions from a nearby Professor, who hastily showed him up the stairs and directed him down the corridor.

As Kurt had finally sat down on the uncomfortable—but _impossibly expensive_—leather chair in front of the headmaster's desk, he had suddenly started to worry about the complications of transferring so late in the academic year.

Professor Malkin had simply explained to him the rules, asking his name and telling him the specifics of his classes. He's been handed a timetable and also had been given a lecture on the importance of the Warblers to the school, although he wasn't quite sure why.

He had noticed, however, in the corner of the room, an elegant birdcage. Happily sitting on the little brass perch was a canary, although Kurt would not have noticed it if he hadn't been paying much attention to the headmaster, because it wasn't singing.

Kurt watched it as it in turn watched him.

'Now, you need a name, boy.' The headmaster boomed, breaking Kurt's gaze with the little bird. His grey hair was balding slightly, but his face was kind, with deep blue eyes that had a calming presence.

'I have a name. _My name is Kurt_.' Kurt puzzled, looking back up at Malkin, who just grinned.

'There's over a thousand boys at this school, I'll _never_ remember that. I'm thinking...' He observed Kurt for a minute—the slightly parted lips and flushed cheeks, the delicately styled hair, and from what he'd heard from Blaine, this boy could sing too. 'I'm thinking _Ariel_.'

This headmaster was reminding Kurt more and more of Sue Sylvester as each second passed by. There were large trophies all over the room, and he'd just decided to call Kurt a girl's name. He even had a large picture of himself on the wall behind his desk.

'At McKinley, they called me _Porcelain_?' Kurt suggested, keen not to be known as the Little Mermaid for the rest of his life.

Malkin beamed and suddenly stood up, knocking the desk back a little and making Kurt jump with fright. 'Porcelain.' He held out a fleshy hand and Kurt shook it tentatively.

'Now, I suggest you take the day to find your way around. You'll be boarding in Washington, where I'm told you know a few of the students—' Kurt briefly remembered Blaine mentioning that most of the Warblers boarded in Washington, including himself.

'...and your choir coach, Mr Schuester, tells me that you have an _extraordinary_ talent. I look forward to seeing you join our ranks as a Warbler, young Kurt. I'm sure Mr Anderson will help you settle in, _he's told me a lot about you_.' Malkin smiled, gesturing towards the door to indicate that Kurt was free to leave.

Kurt picked up his military style bag from his feet and made his way out, smiling to himself as he thought of Blaine. He couldn't help but wonder what he'd been saying about Kurt to the other Warblers.

'Oh, and Porcelain?' Malkin's voice made him turn back around.

'_Yes Professor_?' Kurt smiled.

Malkin sat back down in his squashy leather desk chair. 'Don't get into any trouble now, _you hear_? I know what it's costing your mother and father—'

'_She's not my mom_.' Kurt interrupted him, a sudden flash of anger across his face. In the background, the canary chirped, sounding slightly flustered, if a canary can sound flustered. Kurt looked at it curiously, and once again it looked back at him, and they watched each other.

'Please forgive me, your_ stepmother_.'

Kurt wasn't sure exactly where his sudden outburst had come from—had it been the stress of the morning wearing his emotions thin a little?—but Malkin seemed to have learnt from his mistake.

'All I'm saying is, Kurt, I don't want to see you in this office unless it's for being _wonderful_, understood?'

Kurt nodded, and walked to the door.

'And Kurt,' He turned his head once more, silently battling himself in his head over whether he owed his headmaster an apology, and also slightly unnerved by the constant use of his name.

'_Be careful_. Dalton may have a zero tolerance bullying policy, but some of the boys here really do belong in a _reform school_.' Malkin's face was suddenly serious, as opposed to his previous light heartedness.

Kurt nodded slightly. 'I will Professor Malkin. Thank you.' He pushed open the heavy oak door and left the room.

'_Good luck, Porcelain_.' Malkin breathed, so quietly that Kurt just caught the words as the door closed shut behind him.

* * *

><p>A young student sat on the stone steps leading down to the Washington entrance hall.<p>

He sat alone, head resting in his pale hands—which in turn rested on the knees he had pulled up to his chest—staring into space.

His green eyes flickered back and forth between the floor and the grand front doors, and he pushed his brown hair out of his eyes every so often.

He was waiting for somebody who was either _very very lost _or _very very late_.

* * *

><p>After about half an hour of wandering aimlessly around the Main Building and shamelessly bursting in on several lessons, Kurt <em>finally<em> found the main doors that led back outside.

He followed the stone pathway the way he had come, heading back towards the main gate. The Washington dorm lay just beyond the courtyards and just before the main gate.

He approached the building with a hesitancy, unsure whether there would be somebody to show him around or whether he'd be left to his own devices. Surely everyone was in lessons, including Blaine, who had been texting Kurt occasionally throughout the morning.

It was just as large as all the other dorms, but a smashed window on the first floor told Kurt this was not a house to be messed with.

He pushed open the grand entrance doors and stepped inside.

He didn't get very far—about one step through the door—when he slipped on the polished hardwood flooring and fell onto his stomach, landing splayed out on his front, with a squeak of surprise.

Another boy, who couldn't have been much younger than Kurt himself, ran down the stairs to help him. He had bright green eyes and dark brown hair, a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks, and smelt like fresh air and pine trees. Kurt thanked him as he was pulled to his feet.

'Thank you.' He blushed, embarrassed that on his first step into his new dormitories he'd fallen flat on his face. The other boy just grinned.

'I did _exactly_ the same thing on my first day. Don't sweat it.' He had little dimples like Kurt's when he smiled. 'I'm Avery Taylor. Sophomore.'

Kurt held out his hand and Avery shook it firmly. 'Kurt. Kurt Hummel.' Avery smiled and nodded.

'Come on then Bambi, I'll show you around.' Avery took Kurt's hand and tugged him away from the main door.

_What is it with these guys and Disney characters? _Kurt made a mental note to find out if they all worshipped Walt Disney.

'It's a bit um, hectic around here. _Just watch where you step_.' Avery laughed, leading the way down the main hall to another corridor.

As they got deeper into the building, Kurt could tell that Washington was home to either the messier or the badly behaved of Dalton. Or both?

'_—Some of the boys here really do belong in a reform school_.' Malkin's words echoed in Kurt's head. He hoped not to bump into any of these reform boys.

Avery seemed nice to Kurt—reliable would be the word. Perhaps occasionally clumsy and sometimes useless, but Kurt could read people like books, and Avery had '_loyal'_ written all over him.

They reached a large room filled with bookcases, leather couches and a few desks. Like the rest of the school, it was adorned with antiques and paintings at every possible opportunity.

There was a collection of leather sofa's around a large coffee table, and then several smaller tables around the room with leather chairs around them. It was a mix between a coffee shop and an antique furniture shop. There were obvious signs of inhabitation, such as the countless coffee cups and takeaway boxes, the scattered papers on every table and the large bookcases lining the far side of the room, filled with books of every kind.

'This is the Washington common room.' Avery grinned sheepishly.

It was strangely quiet, but Kurt then remembered that everyone but himself—_and apparently Avery too_—was still in early morning lessons. Looking past the initial grandeur of the room, Kurt soon understood what Avery had meant when he told him to '_watch his step_'.

There was a box of thumbtacks on the largest coffee table, along with a mess of coffee cups, magazines, notebooks, pens, paper, textbooks, various sweets, several packets of Red Vines and what looked like a plate of crackers. In all honesty though, there were more thumbtacks on the floor than in the box.

'Charming.' Kurt said, as he noticed a coffee coloured stain on one of the cream cushions. Looking around the room, he started to pick out all the faults.

There were missing keys on the computer in the corner, a vase on a shelf nearby that had definitely been broken and then glued back together several times. Kurt gathered by the takeaway cartons and pizza boxes that nobody really knew how to cook, and decided to ask Avery if there even was a kitchen.

'Is there a place to cook?' He asked.

Avery laughed. 'It's been, um,_ temporarily closed _while they try to find out who set it on fire. Of course, it was just Lewis trying to bake again. But Malkin_ doesn't _need to know that.'

Kurt sighed. 'Shame, I was going to make spaghetti for dinner.' Spaghetti was Kurt's go-to dish—he was planning on impressing Blaine and the rest of the Washington Clan with his culinary prowess.

'Never mind, we'll order a pizza or something instead.' Avery smiled, his green eyes glittering.

Kurt couldn't help but stare at Avery for a second. His eyes were the colour of the trees outside, yet they seemed to hide some sort of pain, and his smile almost sparkled with energy. He had a natural air around him, that scent of the forest just lingering over him, giving him an earthy presence. His brown hair was just fluffy enough to make Kurt want to ruffle it, if that was a socially acceptable thing to do. Those freckles gave him a look of innocence, but at the same time made him look wise, in an odd way Kurt didn't really understand.

Likewise, Avery was momentarily captivated by Kurt. Blue eyes with flecks of grey and green and all the colours in-between made him lose track of everything, however there was something else, a hint of the past in that glassy expression. He had full lips that never quite met, always leaving a gap between the two, however his smile was broad and bright. His hair gave him away, revealing his inner self-conscious insecurities. It was perfectly held into place by the hairspray that Kurt could never wash away the smell of, no matter how much apricot scrub he used.

Both boys seemed to realise that they had been staring at each other and shy smiles were exchanged. Avery shook his head slightly, as if to snap himself out of something.

'So, where's your dorm?' Avery asked, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand awkwardly. Kurt wondered if that was his poker-tell—the body language he used when nervous, embarrassed or feeling awkward.

'Hold on.' Kurt smiled, rummaging in his bag for the piece of paper Malkin had given him, listing his dorm room, head of year, head of house and the Washington Prefects.

'Dorm 12?' Kurt said. Avery raised an eyebrow.

'_Interesting_..' He smiled to himself, then started to walk—or more of a brisk sprint—back out into the corridor.

Kurt hurried after him, quickly stuffing the paper into his trouser pocket.

'What—what's interesting?' He said, having to walk quickly to keep up with Avery's sudden fast pace.

They reached the stairs back in the entrance hall and Avery swiftly climbed them, reaching the top in a matter of seconds. Kurt had to take them two at a time to catch up with him before he disappeared down another corridor on the next floor.

'You're dorm, _it's right next to mine_!' Avery's head turned and grinned at him for a second before facing back where he was going. His hair bounced slightly as he raced down the wooden halls, looking more alive than anybody Kurt had ever met.

He almost screeched to a halt outside an oak door, a golden plaque hung from it that read '12'. Kurt panted next to him, leaning against the wall and resting for a moment. When he'd caught his breath, he remembered the key that Malkin had handed to him, and he fished it out of his pocket.

Before he placed it in the lock, he took a look around. He couldn't really remember the route Avery had taken to reach this part of the building, but he was sure he would learn soon enough. They were at a dead end, two doors in front of them reading '11' and '12' and two other doors behind them reading '13' and '14'.

Looking back down the corridor from where he had run after Avery, he could see all the numbers leading up to these four, and at each end of the corridor was a large window, letting in streams of light at both ends.

'Open the door, go on, open it!' Avery jumped up and down excitedly. Kurt laughed, turning the key in the lock, when a door behind them opened.

'13' had clicked open and a head peered round the door. Kurt and Avery both turned in surprise, Kurt jumping a little, not used to the suddenness of everything at Dalton.

The head had a strong set face, quite full lips, a flattering nose and greyish-green eyes, although there were bits of blue scattered almost evenly amongst the green. Brown, shoulder length hair hung loosely and the longest points just reaching the figure's shoulders, partly covering the boy that belonged to the face's left eye and cheek. His eyes searched the pair and assessed Kurt quietly.

As Kurt stood as still as possible, the door swung completely open, revealing a tall boy in his pyjamas. _It's ten o' clock_,_ or near enough_, thought Kurt, _why isn't he in lessons like the other students_?

'Avery, _what are you doing to be making so much noise_?' The boy spoke, a deep tone with a scowl to follow up. 'And who's this?'

Kurt tried to look past the fact that the boy was only wearing his red flannel pyjamas and a pair of grey cotton socks and managed to keep a straight face. 'I'm Kurt, Kurt Hummel.'

He held out a perfectly manicured hand for the other boy to, presumably, shake. Kurt hoped he was being sophisticated enough.

The boy looked down at the hand for a moment, and just as Kurt was about to pull away, took it firmly in his own and shook it. His hand was rough on Kurt's. _He obviously doesn't moisturise_, Kurt decided. Letting go, the corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, in his attempt to show some sort of kindness towards Kurt.

'Blaine's told me about you. Take it you're going to be a Warbler?'

Kurt nodded, unsure why everyone was asking him or informing him all about the Warblers. Blaine had heard him sing _once_—at Mercedes' birthday party when Blaine had insisted he join in with the karaoke, but the machine had broken during the first few lines of his rendition of _Like A Prayer_. Kurt had blamed the high notes, Blaine had blamed Rachel for unplugging the machine when Mercedes had banned her from performing.

The boy shrugged, seeming disappointed. '_I'm sure you'll be great_.'

He turned back to Avery, who grinned at him sheepishly.

'Right, can you_ please _keep the noise down in future? _Some of us _have important exams coming up soon and _some of us _need to revise.'

Avery pulled a face. '_Sorry Liam_.' He looked at the other boy with big innocent green eyes.

The other boy, who Kurt now knew as _Liam_, sighed with exasperation and turned back to Kurt.

'I'll always be across the hall if you ever need anything, kay?' He smiled properly and patted Kurt on the shoulder, and Kurt could instantly see that under the big '_do-not-disturb-me'_ act, he was open-hearted.

Kurt grinned. 'Thank you Liam.'

Liam trudged back into his room, closing the door behind him. Avery then turned back to Kurt.

'Come on then, _open the door_!'

* * *

><p>Blaine Anderson had been sitting in second period Geometry for the past half hour, and there was still another half hour left to go. His digital watch read '10:10' and he repeatedly checked it every few seconds, anxious to get out of lessons and to catch up with Kurt.<p>

A textbook lay open in front of him and an exercise book open to the side of that, with various pencils and pens scattered across the desk. He saw the professor walking around the class and pretended to ponder over an equation, the same equation he had had the page open at for the whole lesson.

The professor passed by him with a quick glance at his book, which was full of last week's equations but looked relatively the same to this week's. He nodded and moved on, leaving Blaine to count the remaining minutes left of the impossibly long lesson.

He just wanted to see Kurt, to help him settle in and make sure he didn't run into somebody he couldn't handle. Avery was showing him around and that's all good, but Avery was just a Sophomore and Kurt was just a Junior and if they ran into a potential problem, God knows how they'd handle it.

Blaine just didn't want Kurt to be in out of his depth on the first day.

Which is why he had protested so hard against the choice of Avery to show him around.

Not that he had anything against Avery, but when Malkin had suggested that it should be the newest Washington student and the youngest Warbler to settle Kurt in, Blaine had his doubts.

This, of course, had come with a flurry of comments from the other Warblers. It was bad enough that Blaine hadn't been able to stop worrying about Kurt at McKinley, but he was more worried of what the other Warblers were going to say or do to him, after everything he'd said about him.

Cringing, he remembered the day that he and Kurt first met, when he had spent the whole day trying to describe the exact colour of Kurt's eyes to Wes and David, who, with raised eyebrows, had told Blaine that if he carried on cooing over Kurt they'd have to throw him out of Malkin's office window.

Blaine had insisted his feelings towards Kurt were nothing but friendly. On the inside, he wasn't sure how he felt about this delicately sweet boy, who's story was almost as sad as his own.

Recapping all the other things he may or may not have said to various Washingtons about Kurt—'He's got the most gorgeous smile...'—he saw his phone flash on the table.

_Thank God Malkin has no objection to phones in classes_, Blaine picked up his phone and checked to see who it was, only wanting it to be that one person he couldn't wait to see.

_New SMS - Kurt_

Blaine clicked the keys on his Blackberry and navigated his way to the text in question.

_Wow, I mean, wow! This morning's been mad. I got lost on the way to Malkin's and got lost on the way back. Then I slipped in the entrance hall and Avery had to help me up. Then I met Liam in the corridor, he seems nice by the way, and now me and Avery are in my dorm. It's huge, Blaine! Hurry up and get out of your lesson so I can see you before lunch, Wes and David want to speak to me at morning break. Kurt x_

Kurt's ability to maintain perfect spelling and grammar whilst texting, even in his new-found excitement, never failed to make Blaine giggle. There'd been several occasions when Blaine had merely sent one-letter worded texts in reply just to get the priceless reaction of '_LEARN HOW TO SPELL BLAINE ANDERSON_'.

Blaine smiled, glad that Kurt was enjoying himself, but constantly worrying what kind of trouble he could instantly be in. _At least he hasn't run into any reform kids on his adventures so far, be thankful for that Blaine_.

It was strange how close he and Kurt had become over the past few weeks. They had shared more with each other than with anyone else, although Blaine hadn't been afraid to get to know his friends either. If they were important to Kurt, they were important to Blaine.

Although that Santana scared him.

A plan formed in Blaine's head. He'd forgotten that Wes and David had planned a meeting with Kurt over morning break, concerning his musical talent, and needed to get out of Geometry now if he wanted to see Kurt before lunch, which was a whole hour and a half away.

'Sir?' Blaine raised his hand slowly, twisting his face into some sort of pained expression. While he waited for the professor to notice him, he packed his things away, putting his phone in his blazer pocket and gathering up all his books. He stuffed them into his bag and put on his best sick voice.

The professor came over to him quickly. 'What is it Blaine?'

'Professor Larkin, I don't feel too good. Can I go to the Medical Room?' Inside, Blaine was laughing. He obviously had no intention of going to the Medical Room.

Professor Larkin looked over his face worriedly. He was the youngest professor and usually sat in for others when they were absent. As a result, he was easy to fool.

'Of course you may.' He dismissed Blaine, who walked as painfully slow as he could to avoid the question of '_If you're so ill, why can you run_?' and eventually made it to the corridor.

He walked calmly to the stairs, trying to contain himself. Surely it wasn't right for—after only six or seven weeks of friendship—him to want to run to find Kurt. He wouldn't let himself get so forward, he had learnt his lesson a long time ago and he was not going to learn it again.

He reached the entrance door and checked to make sure nobody was around. Seeing it was all clear, he made his way out into the warm sunlight that was pressing through the clouds above. The forest around Dalton whispered in the breeze and the fountain made noises rather like a waterfall.

Blaine managed to walk, or maybe confidently stroll, up until he reached the fountain in the centre of the stone pathway that connected the whole of Dalton.

That was, until he saw Kurt standing in one of the windows of the Washington dorms, and with a smile, broke into a run.

He charged into the large doors and pushed them open with all his might, propelling himself up the stairs and down the corridor.

Reaching '12' he knocked loudly, a broad smile on his face. Then, suddenly, he caught himself.

_What are you doing? I thought you said it wasn't going to be like last time. You can't just do this, the feelings you feel for Kurt aren't in order, you don't know how or what you feel, so stop kidding yourself. You're just friends, that's all. Just friends._

He toned down his smile into a mere friendly grin, but as the door swung open, he gave himself away once more and beamed at the figure stood in the doorway.

_Nice one Blaine, nice one._

* * *

><p>'I thought you said you couldn't get out of lessons?' Kurt puzzled, but smiling, offered Blaine a seat around the little table that Kurt's room had provided him with.<p>

Blaine ignored Kurt's gesture and pulled out the seat, indicating for him to sit down. Kurt smiled and sat down, and Blaine pushed the chair in a little.

Avery watched the proceedings with a raised eyebrow and a smile.

Blaine took a seat opposite Kurt and grinning, explained how he had escaped Geometry. At the end of his short story, Kurt nodded and pulled out a few pieces of paper from his pocket.

There were three of them. Blaine took the first in his hand.

_Student Timetable - Hummel, Kurt_

_Monday - French, Mathematics, Modern Earth History, Biology (DP), Biology (DP)_

_Tuesday - Physics, English, Spanish, Performing Arts, Home Economics_

_Wednesday - P.S.H.E, Politics, French, Mathematics, Politics_

_Thursday - Spanish, Modern Earth History, English, Chemistry, Sports_

_Friday - Latin (DP), Latin (DP), Chemistry, Performing Arts, Physics_

'You've got the same time-table as me. I'm going to be sick of you by the end of the semester, aren't I?' Blaine laughed, as Kurt handed him the next sheet of paper, and he read the title.

_Rules and Regulations of Dalton Academy_

_As issued by headmaster, Professor D. Malkin_

Blaine resisted the urge to laugh and immediately discarded the piece of paper. Malkin was a pushover, he wouldn't know his own rulebook if you hit him in the face with it.

Not that Blaine ever _purposefully_ broke the rules, he was far too dapper for that.

A third piece of paper slid across the table and into Blaine's hands.

_Important Numbers To Have Should You Ever Need Help_

Blaine had a sudden flashback to when he held his own copy of this document in his hands. He'd seen it as unimportant, and thrown it away.

It wasn't until two months later when he regretted that decision—Avery had _somehow_ ended up on the roof and Blaine desperately needed somebody to help. In the end, he had climbed up there himself and unhooked Avery from the weathervane. Of course, he'd then lost his footing and landed in a bush three stories down. He'd been in hospital for weeks.

Avery still wouldn't say how he got up there.

'I'd keep that if I were you. We'll put it on the notice-board or something.' He handed the paper back to Kurt, and rubbed his left wrist slightly. It still clicked every time he turned it, and out of the corner of his eye he could see Avery watching him, a guilty expression on his face.

Kurt took the three papers from Blaine and quickly looked over the Rules and Regulations sheet. There was nothing extreme, just what he had expected—_no girls, no alcohol, no parties_—and so he scrunched it up and threw it into the bin in the corner. The timetable went into his blazer pocket, the phone numbers stayed on the table in front of them. He would deal with them later.

Blaine smiled at him. 'How are you liking Dalton then?' Avery looked across at him hopefully, silently wishing he had been a good tour guide.

'It's great. I _love_ it here.' Kurt smiled, but his eyes gave him away. They flickered up at Blaine and then to Avery, then back to Blaine, and then to his hands on the table. There was something missing from that glasz gaze, some kind of sparkle.

'It's okay to miss your friends, Kurt.' Avery said, just as Blaine was about to say the exact same thing. He nodded and agreed.

Kurt lifted his mouth into a sad smile. 'I just miss the drama, that's all.' He said quietly.

Blaine and Avery exchanged knowing looks, silently smirking at each other.

'Oh, I'm sure you'll... settle in.' Blaine struggled not to break his poker-face. _This would be a lot easier if I had some damn coffee to hide in_.

'I hope so.' Kurt replied.

* * *

><p>As the bell rang for morning break, Kurt decided it would be wise to let Blaine have the key to his dorm, as he had a knack for losing things nowadays and it would be safer with Blaine. He handed over the key and then Blaine took him down to the Washington Hall, where he was to meet with Wes and David.<p>

He gave Avery permission to stay in his dorm if he wished to, but Avery said he needed to get some Art homework done, so Blaine locked the door behind them after they all left.

'So, uh, what do you think they want to talk to me about?' Kurt asked, nervous about what Wes and David could possibly want with him.

'To ask you to be a Warbler, silly!' Blaine grinned. 'I may or may not have told them that you're an amazing singer... And they may or may not want to hear you sing.'

Kurt's face fell. 'Blaine! I haven't prepared anything, oh God, what do I do?'

Blaine couldn't help but chuckle, dodging the hand that Kurt threw out to slap his shoulder.

'It's not funny Blaine! I didn't know they'd want me to sing! What am I meant to do now, sing some cheap rendition of _On My Own_? _Please Blaine_,_ I'm not Rachel_.'

Of course, he didn't mean that Rachel's version of On My Own was ever cheap, but he was using this for effect. An effect he hoped was working on Blaine.

'I could help you prepare now? I'm sure Wes and David will let you perform a duet.' He was trying to be helpful, but Kurt couldn't think of any good duets that he could teach Blaine in the space of ten minutes.

'Don't be ridiculous, what can I teach you now?' Kurt didn't mean to snap at Blaine, and instantly regretted it, but he was under sudden pressure and he didn't like it.

Blaine racked his brains. 'You know that song by Counting Crows? Um, _Accidentally In Love_?'

He didn't like to admit it, but he was a _huge_ Shrek fan.

Kurt raised an eyebrow. 'This could work.'

* * *

><p>Kurt and Blaine arrived slightly flustered at the Washington Hall dead on time. Wes and David exchanged amused grins and Blaine shot them a look that screamed '<em>shut-up-before-I-beat-you<em>'.

Thad then rushed in behind the pair, and took a seat next to David at the Warbler's council table.

Kurt took a moment to look around the room. It was grander than the commons, and cleaner too. There were no thumbtacks in sight.

Blaine's eyes sparkled as he grinned at him. He knew they were ready.

Wes spoke first.

'So Kurt, Blaine told us you have an _amazing_ voice and, well, to put it lightly, we need to hear it.'

David laughed and Thad nodded. Blaine led Kurt away from the open door and the pair stood in front of the council table.

'I hope you boys don't mind, but I asked Blaine to accompany me?' Kurt smiled, shooting sideways glances at Blaine, who looked pumped and ready to go.

Thad nodded once again and David smiled in approval.

'The stage is yours.' Wes said.

Blaine turned to Kurt, who smiled and took a deep breath. He was nervous, but Blaine was going to help him and that gave him the confidence he needed, just like he'd had the confidence to stand up to Karofsky.

'One, two, three..' Blaine mouthed at Kurt, then began to sing, to him rather than at him.

_So she said 'What's the problem baby?'_

_What's the problem? I don't know._

_Well, maybe I'm in love, love._

_Think about it everytime I think about it._

_Can't stop thinking 'bout it._

He smiled at Kurt, who started to sing his own part. Wes, David and Thad all leaned forward in their seats slightly.

_How much longer will it take to cure this?_

_Just to cure it cause I can't ignore it._

_If it's love, love._

_Makes me wanna turn around and face me._

_But I don't know nothing 'bout love._

Thad's mouth fell open slightly as Kurt's high tones filled the air, David just stared and Wes crossed his arms, smiling happily.

Blaine launched into the chorus, and Kurt joined in for every other line.

_Come on, come on._

_Turn a little faster._

_Come on, come on._

_The world will follow after._

_Come on, come on._

_Cause everybody's after love._

Blaine's smooth low voice mixed with Kurt's higher pitch and caused some kind of fusion, the likes of which neither Wes, David nor Thad had experienced before.

Blaine began his next verse, and started to dance his famous '_make-it-up-as-I-go-along_' dance.

_So I said I'm a snowball running._

_Running down into the spring that's coming._

_All this love._

_Melting under blue skies._

_Belting out sunlight shimmering love._

Kurt, smiling, began to try and join in the dance too, but lacking Blaine's stage confidence, he stuck to his legendary shoulder-wiggle. The Senior Warblers seemed impressed all the same, as he started to sing again.

_Well baby I surrender to the strawberry ice-cream._

_Never ever end of all this love._

_Well I didn't mean to do it._

_But there's no escaping your love._

Blaine rejoined Kurt for the next chorus.

_These lines of lightning mean we're never alone, never alone, no no._

_Come on, come on._

_Move a little closer._

_Come on, come on._

_I wanna hear you whisper._

_Come on, come on._

_Settle down inside my love._

There were now somewhat dancing around each other, Blaine doing most of the 'around' part and Kurt remaining relatively grounded. Blaine span around him and every so often they caught glimpses of each other's faces, flushed and beaming.

_Come on, come on._

_Jump a little higher!_

_Come on, come on._

_If you feel a little lighter._

_Come on, come on._

_We were once upon a time in love._

They sang the last lines together—Blaine stopped spinning and moved unbearably close to Kurt, their faces inches from each other, being able to smell the excitement on each other.

_We're accidentally in love._

_Accidentally in love._

_We're accidentally in love._

_Accidentally in love._

_We're accidentally in love._

_Accidentally in love._

_Oh, I'm in love._

They stopped singing and the room fell quiet for a moment, allowing them a single second to look into each other's eyes and share the out of breath feeling.

That was, until something erupted near to the door.

Turning around sharply, Blaine saw basically the whole of the Washington house gathered by the door to the hall. They were all cheering and whooping—cheering and whooping for Kurt and Blaine.

Kurt blushed._ Are we really that good together_?

Among the faces, Kurt recognised only Avery. He thought he saw a glimpse of Liam too but there were too many students to see clearly. Smiling, he turned back to Wes, David and Thad.

The three Seniors exchanged the same look.

'Kurt Hummel. Welcome to the Warblers.' Wes smiled.

* * *

><p>It was chaos after Kurt's '<em>audition<em>'. Countless students—some Warblers, some just Washington boarders—approached both him and Blaine to tell them how wonderful they were, and how Regionals wouldn't know what would hit it that year.

Blaine was almost used to this kind of talk. Kurt, however, wasn't, and he'd had to ask a group of non-Warbler Washingtons to excuse him, before he vomited all over their expensive leather shoes.

He hurried out into the corridor and away from the hall, not exactly sure where we he was going. But as always, he was scared, so he ran.

He pelted out of the main doors to Washington and ran for the fountain, but mistakenly taking a left instead of a right, he winded up at the Courtyard instead.

Panting, he hastened towards a bench secluded under the shade of a willow tree. The drooping branches hung down and hid the bench from sight, and so Kurt picked that as his new thinking spot.

He parted some of the vine-line branches and walked through, then perched himself on the bench.

_How did one little duet suddenly place the whole of Regionals on my shoulders_?

Sure, he'd always wanted to be in the spotlight instead of Rachel, but on his first day he didn't expect to have such a big responsibility resting on him. Did they now want him to participate in _every_ competition? Would he be called upon for _every_ performance in future?

Kurt didn't know the answer to any of his questions.

He hid his face in his hands, holding himself together.

A voice brought him back to reality.

'_Kurt_?'

The voice was new—it wasn't smooth like Blaine's or young like Avery's, it was sharp and yet elegant.

Kurt lifted his head to see the newcomer part the branches just as he had, and stoop into the shade of the tree.

A boy stood over him, a curious expression on his face.

He had blonde wavy hair that just brushed across his shoulders, reminding Kurt of Liam, however his eyes were large and grey, seeming to take in every aspect of Kurt as he sat on the bench. The grey seemed to reflect the light in a way Kurt had never seen before, intriguing him slightly.

'Yes?' Kurt said, and the figure stooped down into a patch of light.

He had a relatively small nose and thin lips, however his jaw line was square and obviously an inheritance feature. His eyes seemed to narrow slightly as he looked at Kurt.

There was a look of familiarity about him, one of those faces that you're positive you've seen before somewhere.

He smiled thinly at Kurt, who smiled back, still curious as to who he was.

'Can I sit down?' The voice made Kurt shiver, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. He sub-consciously tried to flatten them back down as he nodded, and the boy sat next to him, perhaps just a little too close for Kurt's liking.

'I'm Cordell. And you're Kurt Hummel, right?'

_What a stupid question_, Kurt thought, _he's just called you Kurt and asked to sit down and now he's asking if you're name is Kurt_.

'Nice to meet you Cordell—And yes, I am Kurt Hummel.' He said, still wondering why this boy was even here.

'I saw you run out of Washington, I take it you're boarding there?' Cordell asked. He smiled at Kurt again, but it looked pained, forced. Kurt nodded, unsure whether to trust this student. He definitely wasn't in Washington, because Kurt could see a yellow prefect badge pinned to his blazer, however he was a Warbler, because he had the well-known canary patch sewn to his collar.

If he was a Warbler, surely Kurt could trust him?

Kurt turned a little so he was directly facing Cordell. He observed everything about him, the way he sat up straight and didn't slouch, the way his head was high, and the permanent look of royalty plastered to his face. He watched the way Cordell's eyes looked about him, taking in his own stature.

'I board in Jefferson.' Cordell said, breaking the silence but not his gaze with Kurt's eyes. He gestured to the yellow prefect badge, 'Junior Prefect.' He smirked slightly.

'Oh, right.' Kurt couldn't really think of anything to say.

Cordell began to speak again, although Kurt was focusing more on how to get through the rest of the day.

'You should stop by Jefferson some time, I'd be more than happy to—'

He was cut off as a voice some distance away called out.

'Kurt? Kurt?' Blaine's voice shouted through the courtyard. Kurt snapped to attention and looked around for Blaine.

Cordell grimaced, and his nostrils flared in a way that was hard to ignore. He heard Blaine's voice and saw how Kurt responded, and it annoyed him.

The vine-like branches parted once more and Blaine's figure appeared in the gap. His face looked worried, but upon seeing Cordell, it turned to sheer anger.

'Cordell..', he bared his teeth, and Kurt could sense that he and Cordell did not get along. 'What are _you _doing here?' He forced a smile, looking from Cordell to Kurt and wondering what the hell was happening.

The other boy stood up, leaving Kurt sat on the bench, looking up at the two figures as they squared each other up.

'I was just talking to Kurt. Why are _you _here?' Kurt could see a bitch-off coming up.

Blaine looked down at Kurt. 'I was just coming to.. tell Kurt something.' His eyes looked into Kurt's, as if checking that he had not been tainted by Cordell.

'Well, see you around Kurt.' Cordell said to Kurt, however he didn't break his cold stare with Blaine. His grey eyes burned into Blaine's hazel gaze, 'Take care of yourself Blaine.'

With that, he parted the branches and left the shadows of the tree.

'What was_ that _all about?' Kurt asked quietly. Blaine just looked down at him sadly.

'Nothing. Just.. just try to keep away from Cordell, kay?'

Puzzled, Kurt nodded. But Blaine's mind still wasn't assured.

'_Promise me Kurt_.'

Kurt stood up, and held out a perfect pinkie to Blaine.

'_I promise_.'

Blaine grinned and wrapped his own pinkie around Kurt's, who, smiling, decided he could finally go back to Washington and face the other Warblers, who were now so expectant of him.

Of course, as he and Blaine ambled back side-by-side, he couldn't help but wonder why Blaine wanted—or maybe needed—him to keep away from Cordell.

He wasn't really sure if he wanted to find out.

* * *

><p>Cordell strolled away from the courtyard, a scowl on his face. As he reached the fountain, another student approached him.<p>

'Losing your dare, hey Cord?' The student's voice taunted him, a smug grin on his face. He had a narrow face and jet black hair that was combed neatly. His brown eyes showed no warmth in them, but he spoke with confidence.

'Leave it Oscar, I'm not in the mood.' Cordell snarled, charging past the student, who simply held up his hands in mock surrender.

'Hey, hey, don't blame me. I'm not the one who's losing their dare here, am I? And you know what's gonna happen if you lose, Cord...'

Something snapped in Cordell's mind, and he turned on his heels, pelted towards the student and slammed him up against the fountain.

Several students nearby quickly scampered upon seeing the scene.

'Don't fucking push me Oscar.' Cordell yelled. The student known as Oscar kept his cool.

'Don't lose your bet then.'

Cordell dropped Oscar and sighed. Oscar watched the look of pure hatred on Cordell's face and, satisfied, he left him standing by the fountain.

* * *

><p>When Kurt and Blaine arrived back at the Washington Dorms, all hell had broken loose.<p>

The Seniors were running around commandeering all the younger students, and everyone seemed to be desperately trying to clean up.

Kurt hadn't realised how messy Washington actually was.

'Wes! What's happening?' Blaine shouted to Wes, who was hastily stuffing party streamers into a cupboard in the commons.

David appeared from behind Wes, and shouted a reply.

'Malkin's coming to visit Kurt.'

'Shit.' Blaine laughed, and started to run around the commons, gathering all the coffee cups and takeaway boxes and throwing them into bin-bags.

Kurt ran after him and tried to help, but Blaine stopped him.

'Go and stand in the entrance door. When you see Malkin, try and keep him outside the dorm for as long as possible. I'll come and get you when it's all clear. Okay?'

Kurt didn't know what it was but something about Blaine's new-found authoritive voice was giving him butterflies.

Blinking, he nodded and ran to the entrance door, just in time to see Malkin walking across the stone-pavings, carrying the large birdcage that Kurt had seen in his office, and trailing another professor behind him.

The second professor was younger than Malkin but not as young as Mr Schuester, so he was about middle aged. Kurt could see curly blonde hair and just made out his green eyes.

As Malkin approached the front door, Kurt tried to think of ways to stop the professors from entering without raising suspicion.

'Professor!' Kurt smiled as Malkin walked up the two or three stone steps that led up to the main doors. Malkin beamed back at him.

'Porcelain!' He grinned. The other professor stood a step or two behind him, and raised an eyebrow at the name Malkin had awarded to Kurt.

'I would like you to meet Professor Hart.' Kurt held out a hand for the professor, who shook it. 'Professor Hart, this is.. Kurt Hummel.' Malkin winked at Kurt as if to say '_hey-look-I-did-remember-your-name_' and Kurt smiled.

'Professor Hart is Head of Washington House. He's your go-to guy if you ever need anything.'

Hart smiled at Kurt, a reassuring smile, but Kurt was still thinking of ways to distract them.

'Professors?', he began. 'Could you please... could you please tell me a few facts about Dalton? My dad just wanted to know some interesting things so I thought—'

Hart cut him off.

'Certainly m' boy! You see, Dalton was founded in 1852...'

Kurt wasn't even paying attention, he just nodded along as Hart recited a whole bookful of facts about Dalton. Even Malkin looked impressed at Hart's knowledge.

Kurt just looked down at the birdcage Malkin had in his right hand.

The little canary was washing itself in it's water-bowl, and it made Kurt giggle slightly, but it went unnoticed by the two professors.

As Hart recited more facts about Dalton and some of the ghosts that were claimed to haunt the hallways, the canary looked up at Kurt. It stopped washing itself and observed Kurt. Once again, the pair were watching each other.

Blaine suddenly appeared behind Kurt, placing his hands lightly on his shoulders, making Kurt jump a little. The canary went wild in the cage, fluttering around and chirping as if there was no tomorrow.

Malkin looked at the bird in amazement. 'That's the most he's moved all day.' He laughed, as Hart stopped spurting facts.

'Anderson,', Hart smiled. 'How's the family?'

Blaine shifted uncomfortably. 'They're, um.. they're good thank you Professor.'

Hart smiled and nodded.

'Please, come in Professor Malkin, Professor Hart.' Blaine gestured for Malkin and Hart to go inside, and they walked past and into the dorms.

'What did you do to hold them off?' Blaine grinned, nudging into Kurt a little. _Does this count as being too forward_?

Kurt smiled, his dimples making him look completely adorable. 'Asked for some Dalton trivia and Hart would not shut-up.'

Blaine laughed. Kurt looked at Blaine's hands, they were all cut up and bloody.

'What happened to your hands?' He exclaimed. Blaine shrugged, 'Broken vase. I blame Avery.' He grinned and led Kurt back inside.

* * *

><p>'Quiet please lads, quiet!' Professor Hart stood in the Washington Commons, Malkin behind him. All the students fell silent, although there was an awful lot of fidgeting.<p>

Every sofa was crammed with as many students that would fit on as possible, and every table had at least five or six chairs squeezed around it. It was the most students Kurt had seen in one place since he'd first visited Dalton, and Blaine had sung Teenage Dream.

Kurt and Blaine stood in the doorway, both unable and unwilling to enter the room any further.

Professor Malkin stepped forward. 'Thank you Professor Hart. Right lads, we'd just like to welcome Kurt Hummel to the Warblers..'

Every student in the room quickly looked around for Kurt, and soon every pair of eyes was focused on his figure in the doorway. Kurt blushed, but Blaine's hand brushed past his as he nudged him, smiling, and it gave him goosebumps. Had he been the only one to feel a spark?

'... and to welcome you to the Warblers, young Kurt, our oldest tradition for our newest member. Montgomery, a hand?' He said, looking down at Wes from where he sat around the nearest coffee table to him.

Wes nodded and stood up, and Malkin handed him the birdcage. The little yellow bird hopped up to his perch and looked around the room, before settling his black eyes on Kurt.

'Hummel, join me at the front please.' Malkin said, his voice booming off the walls in a way that gave him the authority needed.

Blaine pushed Kurt into the fray and all the students were suddenly parting to let him through. He felt pats on his back, somebody even tried to ruffle his hair but he slapped their hand away. _Nobody touches Kurt Hummel's hair_.

He finally approached Malkin—but not before tripping over Avery's foot, to the amusement of Blaine, who Kurt could see grinning by the door—and the headmaster smiled at him.

'Wes, if you would?' Malkin said to Wes, who stepped forward and handed Kurt the birdcage.

Kurt was confused at first, but took the cage in his hand, supporting the base with his right and holding the handle at the top with his left.

The bird inside fluttered down to the bars and peered at Kurt. After a few seconds, he started chirping happily. Malkin smiled.

'Kurt, this is Pavarotti. He's a canary, from an unbroken bloodline going back to the 1800's. It's your job to take care of him.' Wes explained, and Kurt smiled down at the bird. He'd never had a pet before, not so much as a fish, so this would be interesting to say the least.

Malkin and Hart promptly left, leaving Kurt standing at the front of the large group of Washingtons.

'Uhhh...' He said, as they all watched him.

Blaine appeared from nowhere and as the bell rang out for third period, he shooed all the students off to their lessons.

'I've got Modern Earth History now, so um..' He started to rummage through his pocket, then eventually pulled out two keys and held them both out to Kurt, who held the cage with Pavarotti in firmly in his right hand, and took the keys with his left.

As students bustled around them, Blaine wasn't in any rush.

'Right, use that key I just gave you to get into my room. Go in and open the third drawer on my desk. You should find a load of books about canaries, and some bird-food. Take whatever you want, and I'll see you there at lunch.'

With that, he picked up his bag from one of the coffee tables—where he must have left it whilst tidying up—and dashed off to his lesson.

Kurt looked down at the birdcage in his hand, and the bird looked up at him, chirping cheerfully.

He couldn't help but smile.

* * *

><p>Pavarotti sang contentedly from where his cage sat on Blaine's bedside table. A short distance away, Kurt was rummaging through Blaine's third desk drawer. He'd already pulled out a thick book about caring for canaries and a packet of specially formulated bird food, which were now placed on Blaine's bed. He wasn't even going to ask why Blaine had all of this.<p>

Blaine's room was darker than Kurt's, a bookcase in the corner crammed full of books about mechanics and football and then various fashion magazines, then more books, cooking and animals and mathematics. Blaine was definitely a book-reader—the whole bottom two shelves were full of fantasy novels.

As he pulled out various leaflets and informational books about canaries, he found something small at the back of Blaine's drawer.

It was a small packet, about the size of Kurt's palm. He couldn't see it, as he was basically feeling around in the dark of the drawer for more packet of bird food, or a cage-cosy. There were then more small packets too. Kurt began to wonder what they were.

He pulled his hand out of the drawer, realising he'd become ever so slightly stuck, and having to pull back on his own arm.

Finally freed, he fell back a little and observed the packet.

He gasped as he realised what it was, then burst into an uncontrolable fit of the giggles.

The packet was small and blue, the edges all jagged. There was that circular shape as the object inside pushed against the outer packaging.

_Blaine's got condoms_.

Kurt couldn't stop laughing. He laughed for a good ten minutes, and he was surprised that Liam didn't hear him from next door and come in.

Managing to control himself, he put the condom back in the drawer with the others and covered them with the leaflets and books.

That would make good leverage should Kurt ever need any.

Still giggling, he closed the drawer and left Blaine's door key on the desk, then he walked over to Blaine's bed and sat down upon it. It was springy and comfortable, _perfect for sex_, Kurt couldn't help but laugh again. Everything was setting him off.

Pavarotti looked at Kurt, and something in his beady eyes pleeded with Kurt for freedom. Checking that all the doors and windows were closed, Kurt opened the cage and Pavarotti fluttered out, circling the cieling lamp for a few seconds before landing on Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt looked at the bird and laughed, and in reply, Pavarotti chirped.

'Okay, _whatever you want_.' He smiled, reaching up a finger to stroke the bird.

Pavarotti seemed to enjoy being stroked—Kurt made a mental note to remember that.

He opened the packet of birdfood and poured some into the bird's bowl. Pavarotti watched silently, not even slightly phased at Kurt's sudden movements.

Then he decided to read the _mahoosive_ book that he was now going to borrow from Blaine. It was mainly rambling on about the history of canaries and how they would live if they were wild.

He found himself suddenly feeling really tired. Lying down on his front, he pressed the book as close to is face as possible, forcing himself to keep his eyes open.

Of course, this was Kurt Hummel, the king of falling asleep in inappropriate places, and so he rested his head on Blaine's pillow and closed his eyes.

Pavarotti chirped quietly and hopped up into Kurt's hair, then nestled himself down and closed his eyes too.

* * *

><p>Blaine walked back from Modern Earth History with the biggest scowl on his face. Not only had his homework been deemed 'unacceptable' by Professor Atkin, but he had been partnered up with Cordell for next week's assignment.<p>

Could things get any worse?

He charged through the Washington halls, trying to avoid anyone who would worsen his mood.

Then he ran into Wes and David.

'Blaine!' Wes shouted from down the corridor, and Blaine tried to ignore them. Suddenly David was next to him. 'Your boyfriend was looking_ cute _this morning', he grinned, and Wes jumped up on the other side. 'You must be having problems controlling the shape in those pants of yours.' He laughed.

Blaine had never heard Wes and David so gleeful before. Of course, they'd always been jokesters and they'd always teased Blaine about other boys—that time when Blaine had '_fallen in love_' with the pizza delivery boy—but they'd never gone so far as to mention.. _that_.

'Guys, do you mind? Me and Kurt are just friends.' Blaine said, trying to push past them, but they blocked his path.

'Oh come on Blainers, we saw you _staring_ at Kurt at break, we see the way you_ sing to him_, you can't hid _anything _from us.' David smirked. He and Wes were almost as bad as the Covington twins, who Blaine hoped Kurt hadn't run into yet, for his own sake.

'Kurt and I are _just friends_. Okay? I don't get... _hard_ around him so please leave it.'

Wes and David burst into peals of laughter and Blaine pushed between them, charging down the corridor and then up the stairs to his dorm.

Wes turned to David. 'Oh lord, he has _no idea_.' The pair started laughing again, as they wandered off to the commons.

* * *

><p>Blaine found his door unlocked, just as he had expected it to be, which meant Kurt was still inside.<p>

He opened the door and looked around the room. He didn't notice Kurt at first, until his gaze found his bed.

Kurt was curled up on Blaine's duvet, happily smiling in his sleep as he cuddled Blaine's pillow. Blaine giggled a little. His previous rage at Professor Atkin seems to dissapate at the sight of Kurt's tiny little figure curled up on his bed.

Then he noticed Pavarotti, nestled in Kurt's hair, and Pavarotti noticed him, and began to chirp excitedly, flapping out of Kurt's hair and around Blaine's head.

Blaine shut the door quickly to ensure the bird didn't escape and then patted his shoulder. Pavarotti settled himself on Blaine's shoulderpad and chirped calmly.

'Kurt? Kurt wake up.' Blaine said, walking over to Kurt and shaking his shoulders lightly.

'_No Dad I don't want to go to school today_...' Kurt mumbled in his half-conscious sleep. He rolled over and swatted Blaine away.

'Kurt, come on, get up.' Blaine shook him a little bit more.

'_I don't want to go, Karofsky said he'd kill me Dad_,_ I don't want to go_..'

Blaine felt a twinge in his chest. Kurt's smile turned to a frown as he struggled to shake Blaine's hands off his shoulders. 'Kurt, get up!' Blaine said, louder than before, and Kurt's eyes blinked open. He looked up at Blaine, eyes hazy.

'Blaine?' He muttered, then he remembered the packets he found at the back of the drawer, and began to giggle.

Blaine sat down on his bed, near to Kurt's legs, and looked at Kurt carefully. He was giggling as he sat up and fixed his hair, and couldn't look Blaine in the eye.

'Kurt, are you okay?' Blaine asked softly, wondering if Kurt had been given some kind of drink from the Covingtons.

'I'm _perfectly fine_ thank you.' He giggled.

'Um, okay then. Come on, let's get you to your room.'

He scooped Pavarotti into his hand and placed him gently back into his cage, closing the brass door and making sure it was locked.

Then he took Kurt's hand and pulled him up. He took the birdcage in his other hand and then led Kurt across the hall and into his own room. He'd give him the book—which he'd only just realised Kurt had fallen asleep with his face in—and the bird-food in the morning.

Setting Pavarotti's cage down next to Kurt's bed, he placed Kurt on his own bed and told him to get some sleep.

Kurt rummaged through his suitcase—which Avery had dragged up for him during morning break—for some pyjamas, despite the fact it was around half past one in the afternoon. He then turned to Blaine.

'I know we're good friends and all, but I'd really prefer to get changed without you watching.' He smiled awkwardly, and Blaine realised what he meant and quickly left.

He closed the door as Kurt started to unbutton his shirt, and suddenly he became conscious of what Wes and David had been reffering to.

There was a _situation_ materialising in his boxers.

'Oops.' He grinned despite himself.

_Thank God the corridor's empty_, he thought, as he quickly waddled into his dorm room and closed the door, a crimson glow on his face.

* * *

><p><strong>Poor Blainers XD<strong>

**Disclaimer—I do not own GLEE. Sadly.**

**Feel free to leave reviews. Every review this story gets creates something naughty in Blaine's pants.**


	2. Getting To Know You

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_S1 EP2_

_**Getting To Know You**_

* * *

><p><em>The story so far on—These Old Halls.<em>

_Kurt's first day at Dalton went down without a hitch, sort of. Wes and David have been teasing Blaine about Kurt and a certain situation in his pants, but Blaine doesn't think it's very funny. Kurt's been given Pavarotti to look after and he found something funny in Blaine's desk drawer. He also met Avery, and then Liam, and then he met Cordell, who seems okay but Blaine doesn't like him—maybe he knows something about the bet between Cordell and Oscar, because we have no idea. And that's the story so far, on These Old Halls._

* * *

><p>Kurt sat upright in his bed. His dorm room was pitch black, however the little clock on his bedside table glowed feebly in the dark. 2:17. Kurt groaned and lay back down, nestling back into his pillow. He blinked at the darkness, trying to adjust his eyes so that he could at least see where his phone was. Dalton was silent, but from the corner of the room, he heard Pavarotti start to flutter around his cage. The bird started to chirp and tweet, hopping around his cage excitedly. Kurt was confused, surely Pavarotti couldn't see that he was awake?<p>

Then he heard the click of his door unlocking, the turn of the doorknob, the creak as the door was ever so slightly pushed open. His heart suddenly started to race.

_Don't panic Kurt, this isn't some low-budget horror film, this is Dalton, nothing can—or will—hurt you here_.

Pavarotti started to peck the bars of his cage, as if trying to chew through them and escape.

Kurt was still positive he was imagining it, that was until a thin beam of light illuminated a strip of his room. Two figures cast long shadows against his wall, and then the door swung open completely, lighting up the whole room.

The first figure crept in quietly, the other then followed, closing the door behind him. The room was plunged back into darkness and Kurt had to rely on his remaining senses. The smell of hot chocolate and marshmallows lingered near to him, but he couldn't see what was causing it, and he didn't really want to move. He could just make out a shape leaning over him, and as he squinted to make it out, he heard the flick of the light-switch and the ceiling lamp turned on, blinding him.

He cried out, yelling curse words as he squeezed his eyes closed.

'Tell him to shut up!' A voice near to the door exclaimed. There were hands on his shoulders, then the exact same voice, but closer to him, 'Hey, _shush_, you'll wake everybody up!'

He opened his eyes slowly, still feeling the gentle grip of the hands on his shoulders.

A tall boy stood over him. His dark blue eyes startled Kurt for a moment, and as he blinked to try and get rid of the pain the light was causing to his corneas, he was left with the image of the eyes on the inside of his eyelids. The boy had black hair that swept across his face. Kurt was beginning to think that this style of hair was common at Dalton, but those eyes definitely weren't. That was something else he'd noticed—every boy had his own pair of unique eyes. This student had flecks of dark grey mingled with the main blue colour, giving the impression of curiosity. He was wearing a pair of dark blue striped pyjamas that accentuated his eyes.

'_Hello_.' He smiled down at Kurt, letting go of his shoulders.

'Is he awake?' The boy's voice spoke again, however he didn't open his mouth, and it also didn't come from that area of the room. Kurt soon realised that it was the second figure who had spoken. Then he realised that the second figure was identical to the first. He had the same black hair, although slightly messier and overgrown, and the same blue eyes, perhaps with less grey in them, though Kurt couldn't be sure. He had the same expression, the same wide eyes and big lips as the figure standing over him.

'Rowan, what did you do with the cocoa?' The second figure said quietly.

The boy leaning over Kurt—Rowan—pointed to the bedside table. A steaming cup of hot chocolate sat next to the digital clock, a delicious swirl of pink and white froth on the top of the hot drink.

'I'm Rowan.' Rowan introduced himself with a friendly smile, and Kurt pushed himself up so he was sitting. He soon realised that in his apparent hurry to get into bed, he had removed his pants and not replaced them, therefore he had slept in his cotton pyjama shirt and his blue spotted _silk_ boxers. Blushing slightly, he made sure that the duvet was not about to reveal his pale legs to the two strangers in his room.

'And this is Ruben.' Rowan said, gesturing to his identical companion. 'My twin brother.' He added. Ruben flashed a smile at Kurt, a cheeky and daring grin that Kurt could tell had won over many a professor in the past. Rowan seemed more controlled than Ruben, although something about the way their eyes met and seemed to convey telepathic messages to each other disturbed Kurt. He was wondering if these were the famous Covington twins that Blaine was always complaining about.

'We board just down the hall,' Rowan began, and Ruben finished his sentence—or was it the other way around, Kurt was too tired to notice—'You should visit us sometime.' Ruben's head titled slightly as he looked Kurt up and down. He resembled an eagle carefully watching it's prey—Kurt prayed that he wasn't about to become an easy target for the twins to torment. 'Getting out of bed?' He asked, a sly smile on his face.

Kurt shook his head and laughed nervously. 'I'm fine here thanks.' He argued, tucking the warm duvet under his bare legs.

'What's up Bambi, can't find your feet?' Ruben laughed, and Rowan half-heartedly laughed along, but at the same time curiously looked at Kurt. _There's twins in my room bringing me hot cocoa and calling me Bambi. Why is everyone calling me Bambi?_

'I—I uh... _I've only got boxers on_.' Kurt mumbled. Rowan heard what he said and laughed slightly, but Ruben didn't hear him.

'Sorry, what?' He said. Kurt was tired, it was roughly twenty past two in the morning and he was stressed out—he was a heavy sleeper and being awoken usually made him cranky. 'I said, I've got _no_ _fucking pants _on!' He screeched. Pavarotti flapped around in surprise at the noise that Kurt had just made, and even Kurt was surprised by the way his voice had gone a little bit overly high pitched. Ruben chuckled and rummaged in the pile of clothes that Kurt had left by his bed. Pulling out the pair of pyjama bottoms, he threw them to Kurt, who caught them with a scowl. Blushing, Kurt looked at Rowan and Ruben with a stern face and they both turned around and covered their eyes, giggling. Kurt wriggled out of bed and went to step into the pants, when the door creaked open again and another figure appeared in the light.

'_Kurt_?' The voice said. Kurt knew that voice, and he quickly tried to pull his pants up his legs, hoping to God that he hadn't just been spotted in his boxers by Blaine of all people.

'_Blaine_?' Rowan said.

'_Rowan_?' Blaine looked to Rowan.

'_Blaine_?' Ruben then chirped.

'_Ruben_?' Blaine looked to Ruben. Or was it Rowan? Kurt wasn't entirely sure anymore.

'_Blaine_?' Kurt said, utterly confused by all this name calling, and finally glad to have his legs covered again.

Blaine looked at the twins and then to Kurt.

'I suppose I should ask why _you two _are in here? _And why is there so much noise_? I can hear you from across the hall.' He said, crossing his arms and cocking an eyebrow at the twins.

'_We were bringing Kurt a drink_.' Both twins said at the same time. Blaine's eyebrow raised higher up his forehead, and Kurt couldn't help but notice how triangular it was. He then took a moment to assess Blaine's outfit.

Blaine, unlike Kurt, was not afraid to parade around the hallways in his red boxers. They hung loosely on his hips and Kurt had to draw his eyes away. His legs were tanned like his arms and face, and his dark hairs had been bleached by the sun, leaving them fair and practically unnoticeable. _Where did Blaine get that tan?_ Of course, Blaine, unlike Kurt, wasn't wearing _silk_ boxers, which probably helped with the confidence needed to be bare-legged.

Kurt wasn't attracted to Blaine, _no sir, not at all_. He was just a gay male looking at another gay male's boxers. That was all. Like when girl's compliment each other's dress sense.

The twins stood in front of Blaine, exchanging grins.

'Seriously boys, why are you in Kurt's room? It's his first night, he needs his rest.' Blaine fiddled with the long sleeves on his red cotton sleeping shirt, which Kurt had only just noticed, and that conveniently didn't have a top button, revealing the top-most part of Blaine's chest. _Has Blaine purposefully worn a red shirt with red boxers to coordinate some sort of outfit_, Kurt giggled quietly.

'_We were bringing him some cocoa_!' Ruben protested to Blaine's disbelief.

'It was Ruben's idea...' Rowan said lazily, and his twin turned to him.

'It was _your idea_! You said '_let's take Kurt some cocoa_-'' He argued, but Rowan cut him off.

'I said _in the morning_, idiot.'

Ruben shrugged, and then grinned at Blaine, who stared him out for a while, before finally settling his mind and believing that they were telling the truth.

Kurt sat down on his bed, the duvet all messed up the way he_ couldn't stand_, but he didn't have the energy to sort it out. Blaine looked at him for a second, then sat down next to him, on the side closest to the pillow and the table. He took the hot chocolate and handed it to Kurt, careful not to spill any. Kurt took it from him and blew it lightly, then took several large sips, before setting it back down on the table and sighing contentedly.

Ruben and Rowan started to jump around the room. '_Can we play now_?' Ruben asked, jumping around on the bed behind Blaine. 'I want to do Dares!' Rowan exclaimed, pulling out a handful of marshmallows from his pocket and throwing them into the air—they landed scattered on the floor and Blaine rolled his eyes. 'Stop that!' Blaine said, and both boys immediately stopped. 'It's twenty five past two, nobody's playing anything.' He put a comforting arm around Kurt's shoulder. Once again he was feeling too tired to function.

'But _Blaaaaiiiine_...' Ruben whined, jumping down from Kurt's bed. He was definitely the loudest of the two. 'Kurt hasn't done his Clan task yet!'

Blaine sighed and nodded. 'I know, he can do it tomorrow, okay? In the morning, when _normal people _are awake. Now, _get back to bed_!'

The twins did as they were told, which seemed odd to Kurt because Blaine was not in any form of authority. However, he was tired and his belly was full of warm chocolate and marshmallows. Everything was a blur to him. 'Right, bedtime.' Blaine laughed. He stood up and pulled Kurt up too so he could fix the duvet, and as he busied himself with the duvet, he shot sideways glances at Kurt's attire. He was wearing a white pyjama shirt with the top button undone, showing the palest bit of collarbone Blaine had ever seen.

Then he looked at Kurt's pants.

'Um, Kurt..?', he began. Kurt looked at him sleepily. 'Mmmhmm?', he smiled. Blaine stifled a laugh. 'You've, uh.. you've put your pants on backwards.' He wasn't really sure if Kurt understood what he said, because his eyes fluttered closed and he smiled. 'That's nice..' He yawned. Blaine helped Kurt back into bed, trying to ignore the irresistible softness of Kurt's skin against his own, and then tucked the duvet in around him.

'_I like this_.' Kurt said sleepily. Blaine laughed.

'What?'

'You know, getting tucked in. It's what my mum used to do.' Kurt yawned. Blaine just smiled and made sure he wasn't going to roll out of bed, then walked out, turning off the light and closing the door behind him.

'Night Blaine.' Kurt mumbled into his pillow.

* * *

><p>That piss-annoying alarm Blaine had set never failed to both wake him up and irritate the hell out of him every morning. Therefore, every morning that he had been woken by it had been an awful one. The fanfare alarm blared out of his Blackberry, and he rolled over in his duvet, looking around the room for wherever it was he'd left it.<p>

Turned out it was on his desk. On the other side of the room. Which meant he had to get up.

He rolled off of the bed and landed with a thud on the floor, cocooned in his duvet like a trapped caterpillar. As he struggled to get free, the alarm grew louder and louder. _Why did I ever set this stupid thing_? Finally breaking free, he charged across the room and launched himself onto the phone, pressing every possible button to get it to _stop-making-that-noise_. The room fell silent, and he then checked the time.

7:30

'_What is my life_?' Blaine asked himself. He headed into his ensuite and washed his face, then contemplated getting a shower. He mentally worked out that if he got a ten minute shower, he still had 50 minutes before lessons started. _Great_, he thought, _shower it is._ He stripped off and left his pyjamas in a pile by his bed, then picked a clean pair of boxers from his drawer and headed into the shower. His uniform was—within reason—folded into a semi-neat cluster at the end of his bed, but he figured he'd just come back out for it after his shower.

Yes, he had just strolled around his dorm naked for a few minutes there. He found it to be a great way to start the day—providing that Avery didn't walk in on you, which is why he'd taken to locking the door, to save everyone the embarrassment.

The door wasn't locked today, however, due to the events of the night before.

After ten minutes of singing Go Your Own Way into the shampoo bottle, Blaine clambered back out of the shower and hastily dried himself off. He pulled on his boxers and then checked himself in the mirror.

Blaine had abs, there were definitely there alright, he could pinch them and everything. But he remembered Kurt showing him pictures of the New Directions Rocky Horror Picture Show, he remembered how toned that Sam Evans had been. He wanted to be like that. He also had a tan line around his boxers, which at first he'd found amusing but was now preventing him from wearing board shorts on the hotter days.

Sighing, he strolled back into his dorm, taking a towel with him to dry off his hair.

He got a surprise when he found Kurt sitting on his bed, fully dressed in his uniform—hair perfectly styled and face looking freshly moisturised—and flicking through a notepad that Blaine always left on the bedside table.

'Blaine!' He squeaked, looking up at the noise of Blaine's footsteps and jumping slightly, obviously shocked and surprised at the sight of Blaine in just his boxers. Blaine flushed bright red and draped the towel around his shoulders, trying to cover himself up a bit. 'Kurt!' He laughed awkwardly. He could feel Kurt's eyes looking him up and down. 'Nice tan line' Kurt grinned, pointing to the white line just above Blaine's hips. 'I was just.. um..' Kurt couldn't stop smiling and his face was the same colour as the pile of clothes by Blaine's bed. He couldn't look Blaine in the eye, and also couldn't look at any other part of him, for his skin was still damp from the shower, his abs were right there in front of him and his hair was all curly. Kurt had never seen it free of the gel before—he had to admit that he preferred it all wet and curled.

All Blaine could see was that Kurt had managed to put his pants on the right way that morning.

They seemed to realise that they had been inappropriately checking each other out and both went to speak at the same time. Kurt opened his mouth but Blaine got there first. 'I'll just go and get dressed, shall I?' He awkwardly shuffled nearer to Kurt and picked up the uniform he'd left in a pile on his bed—Kurt could smell Lynx shower-wash, the chocolate kind, and he resisted every urge to pull Blaine closer.

Blaine scurried into the bathroom and closed the door behind him, keen not to cause even more awkwardness.

Kurt could hear him bustling around in the bathroom and cursing as something fell with a bang. He was suddenly alone with his thoughts, for the first time really since he'd arrived the previous morning—Rowan and Ruben had turned up in his room at half past six to give him another cup of hot chocolate and then dance around while he got changed in his bathroom. He tried to remember what lessons he had that day, but the image of Blaine's dripping wet hair kept blocking his thoughts. He shook himself lightly, reminding him that he and Blaine were _just friends_. He'd only ever thought of somebody like this once before, when Finn had strolled around their house in just a skimpy towel because he thought he was home alone. Kurt had had to hide in his room for a solid two hours because he was so embarrassed.

Kurt used all his willpower to think about other things—his Aunt Mildred's annoying laugh and the way Rachel cried during every solo she'd ever performed—and eventually he pushed images of Blaine out of his head.

'Well thank God for that..' Kurt said. He picked up the notepad from where he had thrown it in shock as Blaine had walked out, and began to flick through once more. He found pages and pages of lyrics. Countless pages just full of songs with no titles, some about love, some about loss, but most of them about hurt and betrayal. As he flicked through, Blaine reappeared from the bathroom, towelling off his hair. He was now fully dressed, apart from his blazer, which was draped over his desk chair.

He watched Kurt reading through the notebook carefully. He noticed that he had stopped flicking through quickly and was now reading the lyrics to one of his newer songs.

'What's this?' Kurt asked, looking up at Blaine and thanking his non-existent Gods that he'd covered himself up.

'Oh, that's um.. _that's the duet I've got to sing today_.' Blaine mumbled, keen to get off the topic. Kurt's eyes lit up. 'Ooh, a duet! Who with?' He smiled at Blaine, who didn't mirror the enthusiasm.

'Cordell.'

Kurt bit his lip. '_Oh_.' Blaine could hear the worry in his tone. 'Malkin wanted something a bit different, and—considering the.. _chemistry_ between us—he suggested that Cordell and I sing a duet. Of course, we also had to write it together..' He trailed off. Kurt closed the notebook and placed it back on the bedside table, then turned to Blaine. 'It'll be fine. I'm sure it'll all be fine..' He tried to assure him, but after their confrontation yesterday he wasn't too sure. 'Guess so,' Blaine mumbled, then tried to change the subject. 'Hey! Breakfast. We need some breakfast!' Kurt smiled as Blaine took his blazer off of the desk chair, picked up his phone, and led the way out of the room.

Blaine sighed as he closed the door behind them. It was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p><em>I actually wanted to ask you something this morning :') K <em>

_Oh really? Before I made it all awkward with my bareness. Sorry again... :/ What was it you wanted to ask? B_

_Why are there pink and white marshmallows all over my dorm-room floor, and why were there two boys squealing at me this morning? K_

_Oh, haha, that would be Rowan and Ruben. Don't mind them, you get used to the chaos and destruction they bring in their wake. B_

It seemed silly to Blaine that he and Kurt were only three desks apart during their Physics lesson, and yet they had been furiously texting each other for the past ten minutes. Every so often, Kurt would turn around from his seat at the front and grin at Blaine, or pull a face, or do something else to make Blaine desperately need to laugh out loud. He'd barely gotten any work done either, his sheet of A4 comprised entirely of the word '_Stars_' with a few kindergarten style doodles around his title. Every time he went to write something about supernovas, his phone would light up on the desk and Kurt's name would just be there on the screen. Of course, it was difficult to resist.

Trying to conceal a smile, he held the phone close to his chest. Malkin had no problem with phones—providing they were on silent—but some of the other professors adopted their own rules during class.

_Does that explain the reason my pants were on backwards too? Cause I can't seem to figure that one out (: K_

Blaine, stifling a chuckle, typed a reply and quickly pressed send.

Two seats in front and one to the left, Kurt's own phone lit up from under his pencil-case—the stupidly massive one that Carol had insisted he take with him. He unlocked the iPhone and made sure Professor Yyanis wasn't nearby, then read the message, lips mouthing the words silently as he read them.

_No, you um.. you managed that one all by yourself. Wuz sombdy a lil sleepi last nite? ;D B_

Kurt didn't fully understand, and he groaned as Blaine used that _annoying-as-fuck _text language that he couldn't stand. Of course, Blaine was just winding him up, but he loathed him for it. But what did Blaine mean, '_you managed that one by yourself'_? Kurt knew he had a habit of waking in the night and not recalling anything that happened, but surely he'd remember putting his pants on backwards?

While he pondered over the answer to his questions, his phone lit up in his hands. _Another text from Blaine, he must be bored?_

It wasn't even Blaine—it was Rachel.

_Kurt! I need your help. I need you to convince Finn that we're perfect for each other. I mean, obviously he's the only boy who will ever meet my standards vocally and I'm much more talented than Quinn, besides she has Sam now. Just talk to Finn and tell him that the two most brilliant and talented members of the Glee club need to pull together and be the ringleaders. Rachel xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx_

_P.S How's Dalton? Mr Schuester sends his love_.

Kurt rolled his eyes and sighed. _Typical Rachel_. Just as he pressed the '_reply_' button, another text came through. _Mr Popularity_, Kurt thought.

_WHITE BOY. How's life with the Warblers? We all miss you so much, it's not the same without you. And Karofsky is making our lives hell. I need you back homeboy, who am I meant to share my tots with now? Text back ASAP. 'Cedes xxx_

Kurt smiled. He missed Mercedes too, hell he missed _everyone_. He was even beginning to miss Rachel, _RACHEL_. But as he re-read the text, the bit about Karofsky wiped the smile off of his face.

'_Karofsky is making our lives hell_'.

He was sure that Mercedes didn't mean to worry him but he could feel his legs shaking at the thought of Karofsky and _the Fury _back in Lima, seeking vengeance on the Glee club.

He hastily typed a reply.

_'CEDES. It's great here, Blaine's helping me settle in and I've already met some cool people—you'd love them all. There's this Sophomore called Avery, he showed me around yesterday, and twins called Rowan and Ruben, kinda hyperactive, Sam would like them. And there's Liam, he's cool. And everyone keeps calling me Bambi! I hope Schuester's not drilling you guys too hard to make up for my absence; did Puck find you a twelfth member? Just stuck in first period Physics right now, texting Blaine about my pants, long story. Mercedes I miss you too, but if you come anywhere near me with any of those wretched tots, I'll disown you. K xxx_

Then he typed a reply to Rachel.

_Hey Rachel. Things are good here, thank you. Um, no, sorry, as Finn's new stepbrother I need to think about what's best for him, and while yes, you two being together would be good for the New Directions as you'd have 'leaders', but last year when you two sang your duet at Regionals we—or rather you—lost. Give somebody else a chance to shine Rachel, not everybody lives in the spotlight like you. Perhaps somebody like Puck? Tell Mr Schuester I say hi (: K x_

_Damn, that speech would have been easier face-to-face_. Kurt could feel eyes on the back of his head, and he turned around to find Blaine watching him intently. He smiled and gestured to his phone, and Kurt nodded. Turning back around, he pressed the '_reply_' button on his and Blaine's conversation.

_Right, please explain to me how my pants ended up being on my body backwards. I know my sleeping habits are extreme but I've never done that before. K_

The corner's of Blaine's mouth twitched upwards as he read his latest text. He wasn't really sure if he wanted to explain last night's fiasco. Another text came through while he was thinking of a reply that wouldn't be awkward but would convey the message Blaine wanted to say—'_Kurt, you put your pants on backwards when I walked in on you in just your boxers and shirt_', didn't quite cut it. It was from Wes. Or rather, from Wes' phone, most likely from both Wes and David, and whatever other Washington misfits were in their area.

It read;

_Walking around naked in the presence of Kurt, eh Blaine? Tut tut. You really should cover up before you flirt with your boyfriend. Bambi's still finding his feet and you shouldn't be so distracting. Honestly, what will we do with you two?_

Blaine wanted to both shout at them and laugh at the same time. They really were imaginative little gits, but how did they know about Blaine's after-shower incident? And why were they being so adult-humour about the whole business?

_I wasn't naked /:_

He sent the reply and decided to wait till lunch to slap Wes and Blaine over the head. Then he began to reply to Kurt, who he could see kept checking his phone at the front of the class. _Best not keep him waiting_, he smirked.

Kurt let his pencil wander aimlessly around the blank sheet of paper in front of him, and looked down to find his paper covered in scrawls. Shrugging, he scrunched it up and threw it into the nearby recycle bin. He always felt good about helping the planet. His phone lit up, and he quickly unlocked it and started to read.

_Well, the twins decided to give you some cocoa at twenty past two and they woke me up with all the noise. Then I came over to find you in your boxers, for reasons unknown, and you pulled your pants on so quickly, you mustn't have seen what you were doing. Poor ickle Kurty. Oh, Warbler meeting at lunch. Get to hear my duet with Cordell /: B_

His face dropped in horror. Blaine had seen him in his boxers? _His silk boxers_? Could things get any worse? Actually, yes, they could. Because Kurt had then put his pants on backwards, and Blaine had known.

_Congratulations Kurt, you made a double idiot out of yourself in one night_.

His phone lit up once more and it immediately showed the text.

_Oh my god, Kurt, just get with Blaine already. Santana says if you don't then she will. M xxx_

Kurt sighed. As lonely as he was, as good a friend Blaine was to him, he couldn't bring himself to believe that Blaine would ever have _feelings_ towards him. He wouldn't let himself get shot down again, _not after Finn_. All this flirty talk and pet names and shy glances at each other, it was just all in Kurt's head.

He couldn't bring himself to reply to Mercedes, and instead chose to answer Blaine.

_Oh, right /: K_

* * *

><p>By morning break, Blaine was already fed up.<p>

He'd been caught texting in Physics and fallen asleep during the English film. Wes and David took great delight in teasing him about his lack of sleep—'_Did ickle Blainey-Boo get no sleep_?'—as they sat around one of the tables in the Washington Commons. Blaine sat on one side of the table, Kurt sat opposite, and Wes and David on either side. Kurt was feeling pretty ignored, however he was grateful that it wasn't he who was getting all the teasing. Blaine was sipping coffee from a chipped mug, occasionally leaving a tiny line of froth on his upper lip that Kurt couldn't help but notice.

'Alright guys?' A familiar voice, and Kurt looked around. Liam was walking—or more running from the twins, who had somehow got hold of a box of matches and a lighter—through the commons, and he pulled up a chair next to Kurt. He was wearing his uniform that day, and Kurt took particular notice to how it seemed a little too uniformal for his liking. It almost looked like he was trying to fight the lack of individuality by wearing a leather bracelet on his right hand and an assortment of colourful plastic bands on his left.

'Hey Kurt.' He smiled. Kurt smiled back. 'Hi Liam, no pyjamas today I see?'

Liam shrugged. 'Gotta go to class at some point haven't I? Hey,' his next sentence began before Kurt could even open his mouth. 'I heard you singing with Blaine yesterday,' Blaine looked up at the mention of his name. 'You're_ insanely _good. A true counter-tenor.' Kurt blushed slightly. 'Thank you.' He wasn't really sure what else to say, but it was at that point that Wes and David seemed to acknowledge Liam's presence and abandon their attempts at teasing Blaine and whip round to him instead.

'Li-li!' Wes grinned, nudging Liam's arm playfully. Liam scowled. 'Don't call me Li-li.' David laughed in reply, 'Yes, _Wesley_, we mustn't call dear Liam here silly names now'. 'OhmyGod, actually shutup!' Liam fumed. Across the table, Blaine attempted to save him the frustration of Wes and David's tormenting.

'How's the girlfriend?' He asked, raising an eyebrow as he took another sip of coffee. Liam nodded and smiled, 'She's great thanks.' At the mention of his girlfriend his face lit up, and Blaine grinned at him. 'Good, you two are cute together.' Liam rolled his eyes. 'Would people _please stop saying how cute we are_?' Kurt noticed how Liam couldn't hide the grin that was now spread across his face. Wes and David both started cooing over him, pinching his cheeks and making kissy-faces. 'Ickle Li-Li's in love-love.' They teased, and Liam struggled to slap their hands away from his face.

Another student came over as Kurt tried to shuffle away from the chaos that the apparently _more mature Seniors _were bringing upon their table. This student was obviously not a Senior, and he wasn't in the Warblers, as Kurt noted the absence of the Warbler's patch on his blazer.

'Um, David?,' he stuttered. He was tall and gangly, with long legs and arms that gave the impression of clumsiness, however he seemed very uptight and controlled. He had short red hair that flicked up in certain places, as if it hadn't been brushed, and cool grey eyes. His face was quite fair and round and young looking, and there were freckles across the bridge of his nose and his cheeks.

David grinned at him. 'Sup Lewis?' Kurt recognised the name—was this the Lewis that had set the kitchen on fire?

Lewis rubbed his palms. 'I, uh.. Rowan and Ruben kind of um.. well there's a small, definitely small, _oh so small_.. _fire_ on the grass out front.'

David's face fell and he stood up quickly. 'Oh shit.' He mumbled. Liam watched silently. 'Go and get a bucket of water from somewhere and just throw water at it until it goes out. Quickly before Malkin or any of the other professors see it!' He seemed to sort of panic.

'I'll do it.' Liam grumbled, standing up. 'I'm used to putting out fires, dorming opposite _this fireball _and his _flammable friend_.' Liam glowered at Lewis—he dormed with Avery opposite Liam and both were pretty clumsy—who quickly scurried out of the commons, Liam close behind.

Kurt wasn't really sure how to react, and Blaine could see his face just processing it all. 'You'll get used to it.' He said encouragingly as Kurt just sort of stared into space. 'Kurt?' David laughed slightly, looking at Kurt, who snapped out of his panic-trance and found himself back in reality, all eyes on him. 'I-uh, I was just thinking.' He mumbled.

Wes and David both checked their watches at the same time, 'We better go.' They spoke at the exact same second, then realising what they'd done, they grinned sheepishly and high fived each other. Kurt saw Blaine roll his eyes and suppressed a giggle. As they ambled off, Blaine turned back to Kurt.

'I know it's all a bit overwhelming, but trust me, you'll get used to it.' He smiled. Kurt sort of nodded—he wasn't convincing anyone.

Blaine raised an eyebrow. 'Come on, let's get you to Spanish.'

* * *

><p>Avery and Lewis walked back from their Algebra class, down one of the shortcuts that would lead them out of one of the side exits and five minutes from the Washington Dorms. The corridor was empty apart from them, and they chattered quietly about meaningless things.<p>

'Blaine's got to sing with Cordell. I don't know who to feel sorry for.' Avery said to Lewis, and they shared the same face of worry. 'Good God, remember last time?' Lewis looked wide-eyed at Avery, who recalled the incident he referred to.

The had been given an assignment to sing a love song, and instead they had gone for a song about betrayal and Blaine had ended up slamming Cordell into the grand piano after a repeated verse of 'You thought I was wrong but in reality it was your own fault'. Of course, Malkin had enjoyed the drama, and had since declared that if they learnt to perform without brawling, they would sing at Regionals. Not many of the Warblers saw this as a good idea.

'Well, I just hope Kurt doesn't get caught in the middle of it. Liam saw Cordell with Kurt in the courtyard yesterday.' Avery said thoughtfully, 'And then Blaine found them and Cordell stormed off.' He added. Lewis pulled a face. If Cordell was showing an interest in Kurt, it was bad news for everyone. They reached the Washington Dorms and walked inside, joining the mass of students that were causing chaos as per usual. Smiling at the mayhem, they turned down a corridor to where Avery would meet the rest of the Warblers, and discover what would happen when Blaine and Cordell sang together once again. Lewis said farewell to his friend and headed for the commons, pretty sure that if anything majorly exciting happened he would be bale to hear it from there.

* * *

><p>'Guys come-on, please?<em> I need to go<em>.'

Kurt pleaded with the twins, who stood blocking his path in one of the side corridors that led down to the back of the Washington Hall—where he was already late for his first Warblers meeting of his Dalton school life, and where Blaine stood nervously trying to avoid Cordell's gaze.

'_The rabbits will wait for Bambi_.' One of the twins said, Kurt couldn't tell them apart right now, they shared the same smirks and mysterious glassy eyed expression.

'_Rabbits_? What are you talking about? Blaine will be waiting for me, he'll think I'm _lost_. Come-on guys, _let me past_.' He tried to push through their shoulders, but they simultaneously hooked their arms through his and pulled him back, so he struggled between them like a rampant toddler.

'Thumper has_ no need _to worry.' One of the pair spoke softly. Kurt thought it might have been Ruben but he couldn't be sure. 'Come-on,_ let me go_!' He shouted at them, and one twin dropped his arm in surprise. The other held on tightly, a devilish grin on his face. Yes, that's Ruben alright, Kurt thought, looking into the boy's eyes and noticing the slight absence of grey.

He was sure of it, this one was Ruben. The smirk confirmed it all.

'_Ruben, let go_!' He cried, shaking his arm free. Ruben jumped back, grin wiped from his face. Kurt brushed himself off lightly. '_Thank you_.' He breathed. Ruben took his place next to his brother, puzzled faces looking back at Kurt as he walked down the corridor, not daring to look back in case they launched upon him again.

'He _knew_ it was me. How did he_ know _it was m-me?' Ruben stammered, and Rowan shrugged. 'Nobody's ever been able to tell us apart before..?' They looked at Kurt in both wonder and amazement as he turned into the Washington Hall.

* * *

><p>A feeling of relief washed over Blaine as Kurt walked into the Washington Hall relatively unscathed. He looked a bit flustered but there was nothing major. Blaine knew that Cordell was in the meeting already, but Kurt could have run into Oscar and that could possibly have been worse. But for now, Kurt gave him a little smile and took a seat next to Avery on the little arrangement of chairs in the middle of the hall.<p>

This room never failed to amaze Blaine. It was the perfect place to practice or to perform.

There was a glass roof that let in all the natural light—as the hall had no floor above it—and diminished the need for lamps of any kind, giving the room a steady warm glow in winter. A grand piano sat at the very front and to the left, and various other instruments were scattered around at the back of the room. An arrangement of chairs were usually pushed to the back in stacks of about four or five, but on days like this one they were placed in rows in the middle of the hall, to create some kind of performing space by the piano.

It smelt like old books and sheet music, and everything was very regal, giving it that feeling of grandeur that Blaine loved so much.

There were two stools near to the piano. Blaine sat on the left one, the one closest to the piano, and Cordell lingered near to the right one, chatting casually to some of the other Jefferson Warblers, occasionally glancing over at Blaine's profile.

Kurt looked at Avery, who had obviously just fallen off of his chair, as he was rubbing his arm and Wes and David were laughing at him from the row in front. He patted him on the shoulder lightly and tried to catch Blaine's eye. It wasn't exactly hard, Blaine was looking right at him—it kind of creeped him out actually.

Blaine eyes looked sad as he looked at Kurt, then flickered to Cordell. Kurt pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to him, and he struggled to get the phone out of his pocket without standing up.

_Hey you, with the sad eyes. You'll be amazing as always. K_

He smiled gently at Kurt's innocence. He had no idea about Cordell, and Blaine was going to try his hardest to protect Kurt from him.

'Okay, okay!' Wes called over the din of the room. Warblers made their way to their seats and Cordell slumped onto his stool morosely, shooting a sideways glance at Blaine, who looked just as sulky.

Professor Malkin walked in through the main hall door at the back, his presence acknowledged by every student in the room falling silent. He beamed at the rabble and took a seat at the front of the chairs, next to Wes with Thad on his other side.

'Right. Let us begin.' He stated, clapping his hands together. Avery nudged Kurt, who had been checking his texts, and then all attention turned to Blaine and Cordell. 'Dusing, Anderson, I believe you have a song for us? And please, keep the violence to a _minimum_ this time boys.'

Kurt pulled a face, and turned to Avery. '_Violence_?' Avery nodded and shushed him.

Cordell smoothed out his collar as Malkin let Wes take over—he seemed a little lost without his gavel. 'Okay Blaine, Cordell, whenever you're ready.' He smiled at them.

They both cleared their throats, resulting in eyes furiously searching each other for a reason to start a fight. Blaine swung out a guitar from behind his stool and Cordell took a seat at the piano. His cold gaze reached Kurt from across the short distance between them and his stare seemed to soften and he almost found some sort of glow. Blaine noticed him staring at Kurt and promptly began to strum on the guitar, an introduction to a song that Kurt was sure to be a brutally honest one. Blaine's honey eyes found Cordell's steely grey smoulder and they locked once again, two pairs of eyebrows falling low and lips turning to snarls. Kurt had never seen Blaine so riled up, even in the face of Karofsky.

The piano floated strongly over the sounds of the guitar and created the melody. And then Cordell began to sing.

_Remember that time, _

_When you wouldn't talk to me? _

_When you wouldn't talk to me, all night._

_Remember that song, _

_And all the words we'd sing?_

_Well here's a song I'd sing, all right._

His voice was quite soft and surprisingly low for a boy of Cordell's build—on occasion he looked like the blonde version of Kurt—and the Warblers seemed to dance in unison in their seats as he sang. Kurt was momentarily mesmerised by his voice, Blaine's words and Cordell's voice gave him shivers. Then Blaine began to sing, and Kurt felt the breath leave his body.

_Remember that way, _

_When you'd never lie to me? _

_'Cause you'd never lie to me, no way._

_You could be faking it._

_My god, don't be like that, _

_I don't like the way you act around me._

He hunched himself over his guitar, in the same way that Cordell did to the grand piano he was furiously hammering out notes on. Flaming eyes clashed as Cordell snarled at Blaine. Avery shuffled a little in his seat, turning to Kurt with a worried look.

Both Cordell and Blaine sang together for the chorus.

_So baby, come on, come on. _

_Oh don't you tell me no, there you go again._

_You're ten out of ten._

_I'm sorry. Did I just st-stutter? _

_Won't tell you what you know, there you go again. _

_You were never my friend, you were never my, you were never my lover. _

Their voices combined together perfectly—sultry tones and ragged breath mixed with the apparent hatred shared between them. Blaine stopped singing and left Cordell to sing his next few lines alone.

_Remember that night, _

_When I saw you standing there?_

_Dark eyes and dark hair, was just you. _

Cordell stopped sneering at Blaine for a second and looked at him blankly, before Blaine jumped up off of his stool and prowled closer to the piano, almost spitting his verse in Cordell's face.

_And remember the way, _

_You were way out of line? _

_I was way out of time, for you._

Any previous emotion show towards Blaine was extinguished and Cordell stood up, kicking back the piano-stool and sending it into a music stand so both toppled over, but the sound was drowned out by his and Blaine's voices singing together again.

_And I got your number, right next to your name. _

_But it ain't nothing, no, it ain't enough._

_That I got your word, I know, that it's all ok. _

_Trying to forget, your kind of love._

Kurt sat on the edge of his seat, legs crossed casually but tensed as if ready to jump up and protect Blaine—although from what he wasn't quite sure. At this point, both Cordell and Blaine were now dangerously close to each other's faces, clenched and poised and ready to brawl, however Blaine's eyes flickered to Malkin and remembered that he and Cordell were not alone, and this was a performance and not another round in the ring. He composed himself and tried to sing as spitefully as he could as Cordell carried on singing the chorus with him.

_So baby, come on, come on. _

_Oh don't you tell me no, there you go again._

_You're ten out of ten, _

_Sorry did I just st-stutter? _

_Won't tell you what you know, there you go again. _

_You were never my friend, you were never my, you were never my lover. _

Cordell's voice dropped out of the mix and Blaine was left singing alone.

_I know you could be better, _

_You don't have to waste my time, _

_It's not like I need you more than I need me._

With a sneer, Cordell rejoined the song and it was Blaine's turn to step down for a bit.

_And I know that you want it _

_Trying to get you on it, _

_Baby we could forget the rights, turn around and wrong it. _

_Tell me your convictions, the promises you keep, _

_I've got a little proposition, and the friction that you need. _

Blaine joined in again for the chorus, both boys spitting in each other's faces once more as they sang the words that Kurt had seen scribbled so lazily in Blaine's notepad. For a duet, and original duet, it was very bold, and Kurt couldn't shake the feeling they were drawing on the past and trying to get to each other.

_Don't you tell me that, you don't want to. _

_Don't you tell me that, you don't want to. _

_Oh don't you tell me no, there you go again_

_You're ten out of ten, _

_Sorry did I just st-stutter?_

_Won't tell you what you know, this is the end._

_You were never my friend, you were never my, you were never my lover. _

Blaine breathed heavily, Cordell's eyes piercing his as they stared each other out. Kurt looked to where Wes, David and Thad sat, Malkin next to Wes. Avery carried the same expression as himself—shock, amusement and approval. It was a powerful performance all right, every Warbler in the room knew that, but it was blunt, and brutally honest, and Kurt knew there and then that Blaine had a past with Cordell that he wasn't willing to talk about.

An awkward silence hovered over the room for a few seconds before Malkin clapped loudly and congratulated the boys on a '_riveting performance_'. Blaine seemed to once again remember that he wasn't alone with Cordell and looked around the room. His eyes found Kurt and pleaded some kind of innocence. Kurt gave him an approving smile and joined in clapping with Malkin and the rest of the Warblers.

* * *

><p>A tall, blonde boy walked across the stone pavings leading back to the Jefferson Dorms, his grey eyes watching the fountain—the way the water just kept on flowing, renewing itself. He'd had a ridiculously bad day. But he was Cordell, and he wasn't going to show it to anybody.<p>

He decided to take a quick detour to the courtyard. For two reasons, he supposed, one much more important than the other.

It was just starting to go dark, being early October and about half past seven in the evening. It was nice, having the darkness just lingering around him, not quite drawing everything into the shadows but enough to feel alone. And he was alone, everyone was in the warmth of their commons by now, chatting to each other or finishing off their assignments. But not Cordell. He had things to do.

The bench was there, like it had always been there everytime anybody had walked into the courtyard, except now Cordell easily noticed it, hidden behind the dangling branches of the willow tree. Now it meant something. This was the place that the Hummel boy had broken down a mere twenty-four hours ago. It was where Cordell had realised just how fiercely Blaine was going to protect Kurt, for reasons that seemed obvious to everyone but each other.

He tried to pick out the abstract shape of a boy, perched on the bench, back straight and head high, but he couldn't make anything out behind the branches. A small part of him—the part that he could never truly understand—wanted somebody to be sitting there, hands delicately folded in his lap and a smile on his face, ready to welcome Cordell with open arms.

But as he approached the bench and pulled back the vines, there was nobody sitting there. No warm smile and no glasz eyes.

He let out a long breath and then turned away, walking back out of the courtyard, possibly moving faster now. There was the slight hint of frost in the air, and now he just hoped to God that Malkin had decided it was now an appropriate time of year to turn the heating on.

* * *

><p>A group of boys huddled around a large coffee table, various cups of various coffees—both empty and full—were scattered on the cluttered surface, and every so often, one of the boys would take his own cup and raise it to his lips. Then it would be haphazardly set back down again, almost always knocking another empty cup onto the floor, and nobody would even bat an eyelid at it.<p>

They chatted absent mindedly amongst themselves, no particular topic apart from one—Kurt.

The boy in question sat away from the group, perched on a leather chair, legs crossed, one on top of the other, casually sipping coffee from a wide mug and acting like he couldn't care less. He'd been whispered about behind his back for his whole life. His childhood was a toxic concoction of wedgies, dumpster-tosses, locker shoves and queer jokes. Having people openly discuss him was no different to any of that.

What he wasn't used to, however, was people discussing him for reason's other than his sexuality—namely, his voice.

'I heard him singing yesterday with Blaine.. That boy's got some _major_ pipes.' 'I heard him from upstairs, _Nationals here we come_!'

It was both flattering and unnerving at the same time. Kurt wasn't even sure that they knew he was sitting so close to them. He was alone, more specifically, he was without Blaine, and therefore he was a nobody. _Well, for the moment_, he thought, _I'm going to be a big name around here_. _Maybe even bigger than Blaine_? He knew that people were soon going to look at him as he walked down the corridor, and he would instantly earn their respect. It was a new start, and he was determined that this time, _he would own it_.

Nobody else he knew was around either. Liam had gone upstairs to revise, Wes and David were over in the Hamilton house, discussing Warbler-tactics with Thad. Avery and Lewis were trying to tidy their dorm. Kurt had absolutely no idea where Blaine was—he'd taken a walk after the duet and hadn't been seen since.

Kurt just took a while to sip his coffee and try to slow his heartbeat, which hadn't been regular for a good 24 hours now. He'd been thrown in at the deep end of Dalton and hadn't resurfaced as of yet. He did have to admit though, Dalton had better coffee than the Lima Bean.

'Hello _Bambi_.' A voice spoke from behind him. Kurt turned his head to see one of the twins standing over his shoulder. He cupped a mug of hot chocolate in his pale hands, a white swirl on the top where the marshmallows had melted into the hot drink. The twin grinned at Kurt, who jumped a little as his counterpart jumped up on the other side. Kurt set down his own mug to observe the twins with theirs. They seemed identical to him, they even stood the same way, observing him with the same tilt of the head. They exchanged sly grins at each other and advanced on Kurt, suddenly appearing on the other side of the table.

'_Twins_..' Kurt said carefully, watching each boy quietly. They just sort of smirked at him over the rims of their coffee cups, eyes playfully flickering from each to Kurt. 'Found your feet yet?' The twin on the left of the table spoke, an eerie voice that unsettled Kurt. 'Um, I suppose so.'

They grinned at him, heads titled to the side in a way that made them look impish, blue eyes piercing Kurt like icy daggers. They set their cups down at the exact same moment, glancing sideways at each other and smirking. 'We were thinking—' The right twin began._ Ruben.. No, that was Rowan. Or maybe_.. '—that you could help us with a little_ project_?' The left twin finished, and Kurt eyed them up. Their faces had lost all traces of amusement, now full-on seriousness.

'What kind of project.' He said cautiously.

'_We want to sing with you_.' The twins said in unison, nodding at each other and then at him. He took a second to hear what they were saying.

'You guys, want to sing, _with me_?'

'Yes.'

'Um, okay then..? What time would you like to—' Before Kurt could enquire for more details, both Rowan and Ruben picked up their coffee cups, thanks him and hurried away, leaving him sat at the table on his own. They glanced backwards as they scurried away, gleefully grinning and talking in hushed whispers to each other. Kurt had no idea what they were up to, or whether it was a good or bad thing. But for now, all he knew was that he was tired, and he already had a mound of homework waiting upstairs—scattered all over his floor and bed—and with that, he drank the last of his coffee and made his way upstairs.

* * *

><p><strong>Late update, I have excuses but yeah, no real excuse for it is there *slap on wrist*<strong>

**Already started working on the next part. If you're reading, thank you (:**


	3. Important Notice!

Right, so These Old Halls wasn't working out for me AT ALL, and as a result, there has been a rewrite.

Yep, you heard right, A RE-WRITE D:

It took me long enough, but it's finally arrived.

So whether you enjoyed These Old Halls or hated it to bits, it would be supermegafoxyawesomeA-MAZING if you could check out These Old Halls 2.0, aka, The Academy!

You can find it here - **(fanfiction.)net/s/7992654/1/** - and bear in mind that These Old Halls will be deleted in one week, so if you can't find it, that's why :')


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